Sleeping Arrangements
by CheerUpSleepyJean
Summary: After Dawson has brush with death, Basil starts having nightmares. He finds a PERFECTLY REASONABLE solution of course—after all, he's the Great Mouse Detective! Rated T.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Great Mouse Detective; Disney does. If I owned it, why the heck would I be writing fanfiction?  
**

Chapter 1  
Through the fog and mist of London, two mice ran.  
"Hurry up, Dawson!"  
The taller figure loped along, half-dragging the shorter mouse by the wrist. Both panted from the exertion.  
"Hello, Basil."  
The pair skidded to a halt in front of a group of large thugs, though none were so intimidating as their leader, Ignatius Drebber. He towered over the duo now like a smoky mountain.  
Basil nodded cooly at the villain.  
"Drebber. I see you brought some friends." He looked backwards at the thugs, who were busy tying his wrists and his friend's behind their backs.  
"I see you have backup as well."  
The villain glanced over Basil's stubby, overweight companion disdainfully; Dawson bristled under Drebber's gaze.  
"At last, I have met the famous Basil of Baker Street," Drebber snarled, words dripping with sarcasm. "Your career has reached its end, detective."  
Basil was unfazed by the threat. His companion, however, looked shaken.  
"What could be keeping Lestrade?" Dawson thought anxiously.  
Drebber whipped around like a tornado and held a gun at Basil's forehead.  
"I won't waste any more of your time, detective."  
He smiled cruelly.  
"Goodbye, Basil of Baker Street."  
He reached for the trigger.  
"No!"  
The doctor lashed out, kicking Drebber's arm just as he fired the gun. The shot missed Basil completely...  
And hit Dawson.  
The thundering echo of the gunshot attracted the attention of Lestrade and his team. Dawson remained conscious long enough to see them surround Drebber and his minions.  
He heard Basil's stunned whisper.  
"Dawson..."  
Then everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
"...had me worried for a bit, but he'll live."  
"Look, he's coming around!"  
Dawson woke on a soft bed, with several figures standing over him. A young voice piped up.  
"Dr. Dawson? How are you feeling?"  
He shook his head once, and the world came into focus. Olivia Flaversham was standing at his bedside, her father, Hiram, behind her. Dawson smiled weakly.  
"Fit as a fiddle. What exactly happened to me?"  
A man he didn't recognize, presumably a doctor of some sort, spoke up:  
"Dear fellow, you took a gunshot to the stomach. We were worried for awhile that you wouldn't make it!"  
Dawson's eyes widened as memories of that night came rushing back.  
"Oh my...what happened with the case? Did they catch Drebber?" His breath caught in his throat as he tried to stutter out another inquiry.  
"Is—is Basil all right?"  
A soft chuckle from a figure in the corner answered his question.  
"Thanks to you, my dear Dawson. The case is solved, and I must confess: I am in your debt." Basil strode across the room to Dawson's bed. As the detective neared his friend, his cocky grin slipped the slightest. Dawson was in a terrible state; it had taken intensive surgery to remove the bullet, and the doctor's recovery was bound to be a slow, hard one.  
Basil reached out, and patted his friend's shoulder gently; a small, but genuine, smile appeared on his thin face.  
"I'm glad you're...still with us."  
Dawson rolled his eyes good-naturedly, and returned the grin.  
"I'm pretty happy about that myself, Basil."  
He hadn't been expecting much of a scene—Basil had never been one for heartfelt emotional gestures.

_Darkness surrounded around Basil. From the shadows of the alley emerged Drebber, large and monstrous._  
_"Looking for someone?" He sneered._  
_A cry echoed in the alleyway. _  
_"Basil!" _  
_"Dawson..." Basil breathed. He could faintly see his friend through the swirling mists. Dawson was being held by Drebber's gigantic minions, a gun pointed at his forehead. _  
_Drebber laughed cruelly. "You've lost, Basil." _  
_The detective tried to run to his friend's aid, but he was paralyzed. Drebber's face appeared, obscuring his view. _  
_"The death of the dear doctor is on your head! You've led your lamb to slaughter!" _  
_"No! Dawson!"_  
_A gunshot rang out._  
And Basil awoke with a start.  
"A dream...just a dream," he muttered, breathing hard. He shuddered. Dawson's screams and the sound of shooting still echoed in his ears.  
After lying still a moment, the detective finally gave up on sleep. He pulled on his dressing gown and headed to his lab table, hoping to work on his experiments for a bit before the world awoke.  
As he passed the doctor's room, Basil slowed. After a moment's hesitation, Basil carefully opened the door of his friend's bedroom. Ever so quietly, he snuck over to the side of the bed.  
Dawson lay curled under a heavy blanket, sleeping soundly. The detective stood by the bed for a moment, listening to his friend's rhythmic breathing. Then, he patted Dawson's head gently, crept out of the room, and returned to his own bed, where he dozed fitfully until the early morning.

**(A/N: yes, I stole a line from the Sherlock Holmes movie with Robert Downey Jr. I like the line. Roll with it.)**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
Dawson yawned and stretched. His body ached from his recent injuries, but he had been feeling much better the past few days. He carefully got out of bed, put on his slippers, and wandered into the sitting room. Despite the early hour, the doctor wasn't particularly surprised to see Basil in his chair, smoking a pipe.  
"Another all-nighter, Basil?"  
Basil looked up quickly at his friend. His usual confident expression couldn't hide the rings under his eyes.  
"You might say that." Basil muttered.  
Dawson sighed inwardly. The detective never seemed to know his own limits. More often than not, Dawson's scolding was the only reason he took any break from his work.  
"Basil, after we finish up the case today, promise me you'll try to sleep."  
"'We?' You intend to join me today?"  
Dawson blinked.  
"Well, yes. Is that alright?"  
The detective studied the doctor with his piercing green eyes. Then, he plastered on his usual smug grin.  
"Just making sure you are up to a hard day's work, my dear Dawson. Come, then! We should get down to the police station!"  
With that, Basil ran off, leaving Dawson to follow.

For the third time that night, Basil awoke, a cold sweat on his brow. He sat upright in his bed for a moment, attempting to catch his breath; ever since Dawson had resumed work by his side, the nightmares had become more frequent—and even more horrifying.  
Once again, Basil rolled out of bed, put on his favorite purple dressing gown, and crept out of his room.  
Once again, he snuck into the bedroom down the hall, and peered in at the still form of David Dawson.  
And once again, Basil turned to leave.  
_"Basil!"_  
_"No! Dawson!"_  
Basil stopped short. It was no use; as soon as he went back to sleep, the awful dreams would begin again.  
"Wait a minute..." Basil thought. "The nightmares only come when I leave Dawson." He turned around, crossing a patch of moonlight, and walked toward the bed once more.  
"Then why leave?"  
Carefully, he lifted the corner of the covers, and climbed into the bed without disturbing the doctor. Basil smiled as he shut his eyes, and fell asleep listening to his friend's rhythmic breathing.  
Hours later, as the first rays of sunlight shone into the bedroom of 221 1/2 Baker Street, a slim figure slipped from beneath the covers. With a caring glance at his still companion, he tiptoed out of the room.

It had been a rough day.  
Basil had woken Dawson while the sky was still a rosy pink streaked with warmer shades, and the two had spent hours upon hours in a seedy tavern, looking for a criminal. During that time, the duo had gotten in to no less than three bar fights, and both were exhausted. Even Basil had, for once, gone to his bedroom without protest. Rubbing his sore leg—the day's activity had made his old war injury flare up—the good doctor quickly changed and climbed into bed.  
It was about 11:45 when he felt the bed creak. Still feeling groggy, Dawson rolled onto his other side.  
And found himself facing with his best friend.  
"Basil? What..."  
The detective opened one shining green eye.  
"You're dreaming, Dawson."  
"Oh."  
With that, Dawson rolled himself over so he wouldn't be nose-to-nose with Basil.  
"Silly me," he thought. "Of course I'm dreami—"  
A sharp pain in his sore leg broke into Dawson's train of thought.  
"Wait a minute..." Dawson whispered.  
"No I'm not!"  
He sat up so quickly that he knocked the detective onto the floor, which he hit with a loud "CRASH."  
"Ow..."  
"Basil! What in the blazes are you doing in my bed?"  
"Sleeping." Basil muttered. "Psyche, you should not have looked at Eros!"  
"I am NOT a gorgeous maiden! Now answer me!"  
"I notice you aren't denying the fact that I'm a god." The detective said with a naughty smile.  
"BASIL!"  
Basil's grin morphed into a sheepish look. He heaved a sigh.  
"Well, I guess I should have known I wouldn't be able to keep this...habit...a secret forever."  
"Wait, just HOW LONG have you been sleeping with me?"  
The detective looked guilty.  
"Since shortly after you were injured." Basil hugged his knees to his skinny frame.  
"Ever since Drebber shot you, I haven't been able to sleep well—alone, that is."  
Dawson's face softened. He slipped out of his bed carefully, and sat on the floor next to his friend.  
Basil took a deep breath and went on, unable to meet the doctor's eyes.  
"I can't...I just can't forgive myself. You were almost killed because of me. I've been dreaming about that night in the alley again and again, and I can only rest if..." he risked a glance at Dawson. "If I know you're safe."  
After a moment's pause, the doctor managed a reply.  
"Basil," Dawson carefully put his paw on his friend's slim shoulder, and looked into his green eyes. "As you well know, I'm no stranger to injury. I knew the risks when I became your partner, but I moved in with you anyway. Being with you—on cases, I mean—well, it's worth the danger."  
Basil's usual confident mask slipped fully off, and he looked touched.  
"Do you mean it?"  
Dawson smiled. "Of course, my friend."  
The corner of Basil's mouth twitched upward for an instant, but then he sighed again.  
"I am...sorry, though. For sneaking into your bed. I'll leave you be."  
Basil unfolded his long legs, got up, and trudged toward the door.  
"Wait..."  
The detective turned. Dawson sighed, blushing slightly. "If this is the only way you can sleep, then...so be it."  
Basil's face lit up.  
"I can stay with you?  
Dawson chuckled nervously. "Well, I'd be a rather hypocritical doctor if I prevented you from sleeping!"  
Basil quickly padded across the floor and climbed under the covers. Dawson tucked himself in as well, and closed his eyes.  
"Goodnight, Dawson."  
The doctor smiled.  
"Goodnight, my friend."

**(A/N: .**  
**Read if you're not familiar with the Greek Myth of Eros and Psyche. **  
**I just had to insert my own take on "am I a pretty lady?")**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:  
"...long story short, I wore a dress to the restaurant, and a rather dashing young waiter gave me several glasses of fine wine 'on the house!'"  
"Really? Hahaha!"  
"That's hilarious!"  
Months later, Basil and Dawson sat with the Flavershams in the sitting room of 221 1/2 Baker Street, laughing over some of Basil's stranger cases.  
Olivia clapped. "What happened next, Mr. Basil?"  
Her father broke in. "The rest of the story will have to wait, I think. It's getting late, and Olivia and I should—"  
Thunder rumbled loudly outside.  
"—get moving."  
Dawson pulled back the curtains, revealing one wet world.  
"Tsk! What a bad storm! There's no way you'll be able to find a cab this late, and you two can't walk home in this weather."  
Basil nodded. "You're welcome to stay the night. The two of you could take my bedroom."  
Hiram Flaversham shook his head. "No, no. We couldn't impose like that."  
"Nonsense! It's no trouble," Basil said. "I usually sleep in Daw—"  
Dawson surreptitiously stomped on Basil's paw.  
"—oof! On the davenport! I prefer to sleep on the davenport, anyway!"  
Hiram hesitated. "Are you sure we wouldn't be imposing?"  
"It's perfectly fine, Mr. Shamerflav!"  
"It's Flaversham—oh, never mind. Thank you."  
"Goodnight, Mr. Basil! Goodnight, Dr. Dawson!"  
The doctor and the detective waited until Mr. Flaversham and Olivia had retired before they went to Dawson's room for the night.

"Daddy? Have you seen Mr. Basil or Dr. Dawson?"  
Hiram Flaversham scratched his head. "No, Olivia, I haven't. I imagine Dr. Dawson is still asleep—he's had a busy week, by the sound of it, and his injuries are probably bothering him." He paused for a moment. "I'd like to thank them before we leave, though."  
He opened the door of the apartment and stuck his head out. After a moment, he spotted the landlady.  
"Mrs. Judson, did Mr. Basil go out?"  
"If he did, I didn't see him."  
"That's worrisome. He said he'd be sleeping on the davenport."  
"Have you asked Dr. Dawson?"  
"I think he's still asleep."  
Mrs. Judson put a finger to her plump chin. "Maybe you had better wake him. Someone needs to make sure Mr. Basil isn't getting into trouble."  
"I suppose you're right."  
With that, Hiram walked up to Dawson's bedroom door, and rapped on it with his knuckles.  
When there was no response, he tentatively turned the doorknob and peeped into the room.  
Mr. Flaversham gasped. Though a pillow obscured his view of the head, it was undeniable that a figure of a mouse lay in the bed next to a still-sleeping Dawson.  
"Dr. Dawson!"  
The doctor opened his eyes, and sprang up into a sitting position.  
"My goodness!" Hiram yelled. "Sir, I thought you to be a gentleman, and here you are, unmarried and in bed with a woman! With myself and my young daughter in the flat, too!"  
"I assure you, Mr. Flaversham, I can explain—"  
"Have you no shame?"  
The commotion drew the attention of Mrs. Judson and Olivia, and the two peeked into the room as well. Mrs. Judson's paw flew to her mouth.  
"Dr. Dawson! This is shocking! What would Mr. Basil say if he knew you brought some woman to the apartment?"  
The figure in the bed with Dawson stirred.  
"Quite frankly, my dear Mrs. Judson, I don't object at all."  
Mr. Flaversham and Mrs. Judson watched, open mouthed, as Basil himself climbed out of Dawson's bed, yawned, and strode past them.  
Olivia almost fell over trying to hide her giggles.  
"Please, I—I can assure you," Dawson stuttered, red as a tomato, "this isn't what it looks like..."  
Basil's voice carried over from the other room. "Get a move on, my gorgeous maiden! We have lots to do today!"  
In tandem, Mr. Flaversham and Mrs. Judson glanced over their shoulders at Basil, then looked back at Dawson, bewilderment plain on their faces.  
"Basil and I aren't... I mean, we didn't..." Dawson blushed even harder, and smacked a paw to his forehead.  
"Oh, God..."


End file.
